Bradley and Sirius: Time to Die
by Master of the Boot
Summary: The face of true evil wasn't the chaotic, grinning, pretentious major. Nor was it the foolish, petty, controlling Voldemort. No, the face of evil was an unknown man who went by the name of Bradley, and now Sirius Black is in the way of the hunter.


Fuhrer Bradley and Sirius Black

_Author's note: This story is a small part for a larger story by a friend. In that story, Rip van Winkle falls in love with Sirius Black and they start a very messed up romance._

_This story deals with a time when Sirius and Rip are deeply in love but the world is being slowly taken over by vampires from vampire hunter D. enter Fuhrer Bradley, who wants to find Rip van Winkle for his own twisted reasons and he's willing to destroy anything that gets in his way._

_The point of this story was to do a curb stomp where the stomped person's pride remains unbroken. And I do love writing it :) Now enjoy ;)_

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"Rip!" shouted Sirius Black, turning around at the sound of footsteps; oh God, please let it be that wonderful, awful, lovely vampire girl. However when he turned around, he saw that the person waiting for him wasn't Rip Van Winkle. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked the figure shrouded in darkness.

"It's me," came the voice, an Austrian accent and with a warm, grandfatherly tone, "Rip." The person in shadow said with a hint of good natured sarcasm.

Sirius sized up his new foe. Hidden in shadows, the unknown man stood over the dead corpses of wizards and the ashes of Nobles alike. There was a spot of blood on one boot; the left one that stood in the light. Otherwise there was nothing visible about him but his outline; and if that was anything to go by

The man in the shadows made no move. He never shifted his posture and he made no moves with his hands or head. He was as a statue in the darkness; before he finally said "I didn't think that little Ripley Osterkampf was still alive; or that she was romantically inclined to men." The voice that sounded so much like the only father figure Sirius had ever known held nothing but sympathy and warmth; perhaps too much. "I heard she'd been killed," said the shadow man, his voice becoming slightly flat at the word "killed."

There was something wrong about this man. "Who the fuck are you?" Sirius demanded again in his hoarse voice. "Don't fucking toy with me!"

The figure didn't respond right away. There was a rustling of fabric, as though he was straining to not move from where he stood. "I'm not toying with you," he answered coyly.

"Enough!" Sirius shouted, holding out his hand and launching a fireball to the side, which burnt a hole in a cinder block. "Who are you?"

The flash of the fireball lit up the man, showing off the military uniform of a Nobel vampire; yet his face still remained shadowed. And for some reason Sirius didn't think that this man was a vampire. The black, crimson and velvet uniform belonged to a high ranking officer; as indicated by the gold trim on the uniform and the ceremonial cape around his broad shoulders.

"I'm just a friend of Rip," said the man, taking the smallest step forward. "I'm a good friend of Rip. I like Rip and Rip likes me. I'm Rip's oldest friend," said the man as he took another small step forward. His left foot came to rest atop a pile of brass bullet cartridges while his other foot stepped on the wand of a dead wizard and broke it with an audible snap that almost made Sirius jump. "I just want to find Ripley Osterkampf," said the man in a tone that felt slightly cold and even a little threatening.

A further step into the light illuminated something of the man. Sirius could only just make out his face; but his features were square and masculine. One eye was totally shadowed while the other was visible; a green eye with a pencilled in eyebrow.

"So please tell me," said the man in a tone of voice that no longer sounded like James Potter's father, "Where is Rip?" it was an innocent question but left Sirius feeling sick in his stomach.

"Who are you?" he asked once more to the man.

"Yes," said the man sharply, gritting his perfect white teeth slightly. "I believe you asked me that already. It was your first question." The man's one visible eye was staring straight at Sirius; he never blinked and never looked away. The eye was fixed straight at him.

"I did hear you," said the man who was no longer pretending to be friendly or grandfatherly, "You asked who I was. I asked you where I can find Ripley Osterkampf; if you please." The last part of his question was phrased with forced sweetness.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the man, his hands spreading for offensive spells. "Why do you want to find Rip?"

The man chuckled, something that didn't sound at all pleasant. It was perhaps the first honest sound the man had made. "Why would it concern you? Unless you care for little Ripley."

"I don't want to tell you where Rip is," said Sirius to the nameless man. Sirius took a step forward, summoning balls of fiendfyre in his palms. The months living with Rip and fighting the vampire menace had taught him much about wandless magic. That and some of Dumbledore's old notes. The old coot had his problems but he knew magic like nobody else.

"So let me ask," said the shadow man with just one visible, unwinking eye, "Why won't you tell me about little Rip?" his voice was strained now. The mask of friendliness was slipping. Anger was seeping through his voice.

"I just want to find Ripley, that's all," said the man, as if he were being persecuted.

Sirius began to notice something. As the man was speaking, his one eye was glowing. IT was faint; but like a cigarette end, the man's visible eye was glowing from inside the pupil. Just a speck of glowing red burning in the pitch black.

"Tell me," the man seethed with anger, and then laughed again. "Please." The green of eye of his cast a red light on his face; illuminating a black eye patch and a black mustache. Four sword handles peeked out from under his cloak; all of which had seen recent use

Wait.

Sirius had seen this man before. In the boggart in the closet. The man in the blue Prussian military uniform. The man who haunted Rip's nightmares; the face that she saw

when she woke up screaming at night. The name she forgot but the face that she could never forget; the face of a grandfather, the heart of a demon or a devil.

Sirius's eyes narrowed as his fear of the shadow man turned into hate. "I know you, Bradley."

For a moment, a look of forced, overacted shock came across Bradley's face; like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. "Bradley? Did she tell you about me?" as he stepped further into the light. "I guess she would," he chuckled a bit more, sounding once again like a kind, loving man. His eye had stopped glowing.

Bradley stepped into the light, bloodstains on his black, stolen uniform. "Bradley is just the name I was given," he reached up and grabbed his eye patch. "But if you want to know my real name—

Sirius's eyes widened at what he saw.

While the other eye was normal, the left eye was inhuman; blank white with a symbol on it. A symbol of a dragon eating its own tail with a pentagram inside of the circle.

-is Pride," finished the homunculus as he strode into the light; showing off his sin proudly. "And I'm Rip's friend." And his face split into the biggest, happiest grin yet as he put the eye patch back.

SMASH!

Bradley was given a rude surprise when Sirius flew at him, quite literally and smashed Bradley through a wall made of brick. The homunculus and the wizard flew through several brick and plaster walls and eventually landed in a fabulous courtyard full of ionic columns and choked with Ivy.

Sirius was breathing heavily as he held this man—no, this thing, by the coat he had stolen; just like the lives he'd stolen.

What infuriated Sirius even more was how Bradley just looked up at him with that twisted eye of his and that warm, affectionate smile. A little smirk played across Bradley's lips that reminded him ever so much of his dead friend James Potter; surely the greatest of insults and blasphemies a villain as black hearted as this could come up with.

"Ha!" Bradley chuckled good naturedly, "That got you. Do you mind letting go of my coat? You'll wrinkle it." He said just before Sirius struck him in the face.

Bradley's head jutted to the side, while Sirius was too angry to focus on the pain in his hand. The guy had a jaw like concrete.

Pulling out a wind, Sirius held it right between Bradley's eyes; which did not blink. "That would be painful."

"AVEDA KEDAVRA!" accompanied the voice with the green flash of light. Bradley's face went slack and his normal eye shut. His ultimate eye however remained open, even while the heavily scarred eyelid twitched.

Sirius couldn't help but feel something cold crawling up his spine as the ultimate eye stared unblinkingly at him.

Bradley's limbs were akimbo; like a discarded doll or a robot with the power supply cut off.

But Aveda kedavra does is rip the soul out of the body; and Bradley was powered by many stolen souls in his cursed philosopher's stone.

The life pumped back into his limbs after the temporary power disruption. The eyes focused again and he smiled again, but this wasn't such a nice smile. "Painful for you."

Then calmly, with both hands, he took Sirius's wrists and gently pried them apart; like a rubber padded vice.

There was a flash and a spark as Sirius unleashed a nonverbal spell on Bradley. From under Bradley's shirt, bloody intestines spilled out moments before there was a cascade of red sparks and the intestines were sucked back into his body.

Bradley looked up and gave Sirius a grimace. He was mad now. Grabbing Sirius's scrawny yet corded neck, he slammed Sirius's skull into his own.

Sirius gave a muffled yelp and fell to the ground next to Bradley.

While he lay on the ground, Sirius reached up and felt the spot where Bradley had head-butted him. The spot was soft; not good.

Bradley pulled out his sword, only to see that Sirius was gone. "You didn't apparate," he said aloud. "There was no crack or pop."

Bradley turned around and spoke into the night. "You're not running away are you? The party is just getting started!"

Sirius meanwhile was cowering behind a crumbing wall; trying to heal his skull with a simple-ish healing spell. Only to get interrupted by a pair of swords bursting through the brick on either side of his head. Sirius lunged forward to escape the strips of razor sharp steel and in the process slashed open one shoulder nearly to the bone.

Cursing like a fucking sailor, Sirius put a hand to the wound, which began to heal; all wizards had some ability to heal wounds, not just professionals like Madam Pomfrey. The healing of the wound however was premature, as no sooner did Sirius look up as he saw Bradley standing right in front of him like a disapproving father.

The homunculus didn't even let Sirius think a spell, he grabbed Sirius's left arm and held it up; sledgehammer blows hit Sirius in the ribs rapid fire. Air left Sirius's lungs explosively and his eyes bulged out; this all encouraged Bradley.

The inhuman killer threw Sirius against the brick wall, breaking more bones and doing more damage. The helpless wizard was punished as the Austrian started to deliver highly precise martial arts kicks to the torso and head of his foe.

Bradley didn't make a noise as he systematically tore his opponent apart. Everything that Sirius had to fight with was broken apart, including his mind. Blows rained down on his chest and groin. He shouldn't have even been standing except for some magic of willpower.

The mustachioed man could hear organs burst and blood vessels tear; yet he was making very sure not to kill Sirius, make sure he could still be interrogated. After all, he still had to find little Ripley.

Then Bradley heard it, Sirius sensed it; no regular human could have known they were coming. Vampires; they called themselves Nobles, as if to set themselves apart from the fleas and mosquitos. They rallied around their leader Dracula as they fought to take over the remains of the post apocalyptic world; their so called Sacred Ancestor.

Bradley spun around and met the first of the vampires with a kick that knocked the ludicrous sword from the undead's hand. The thing was gaudy, gem encrusted; the polar opposite of Bradley's utilitarian swords.

Grabbing his own sword, Bradley hacked off the vampire's other arm, which held some kind of prototype model of lasergun. He could see the vampire's face; inhumanly beautiful, full red lips, delicate but lethal fangs like a panther—to destroy something so beautiful would almost be a crying shame. He wanted to kill it!

He grabbed the front of the vampire's fancy army uniform and smashed his head into the creature's mouth. The vampire made some sound of pain as its upper jaw was smashed in and the fangs were cracked to pieces. Bradley began to smash his head into the vampire's face repeatedly for he was one of the few in the world that truly did not care for beauty.

A second vampire that Bradley had forgotten about lunged at him from behind with a sword of her own. A she swung down the blade, she realized to her horror that it sliced through her comrade's heart without ever hitting the mysterious foe who'd murdered her unit commander and stolen his uniform.

The female vampire heard the sounds of Bradley behind her and swung her blade at him.

Bradley however was faster, grabbing both her hands at the hilt, he stopped the sword strike and returned the favor. From under his cape, Bradley's sword shot out like a spear and struck the knee of the third vampire of the group; he'd die later.

The female vampire transformed into a mist, escaping Bradley's grip but not escaping Bradley.

The male vampire pulled the sword out of his knee, only to be tackled by Bradley to the ground. Bone shattering punches were rained on the vampire's face; who'd been promised immortality. When he screamed he really still screamed like a human would scream; like when Bradley drove his thumbs into the creature's eyes and into his brain.

The female vampire rematerialized, her red hair nearly glowing in the moonlight and her bleeding upper jaw shed rubies. She swung a hand of claws long enough to slice a man's head off. The claws sunk deep into Bradley's heart; for a heart strike is what kills a vampire and there was no way this man could be human.

Almost as an afterthought, Bradley swung behind him and struck the Noble woman in the pelvis, knocking her back. Then, thrusting his thumb back into the unfortunate vampire's eye socket, he began to pull apart until the Noble's skulls split in half. Bradley was left holding the two pieces like they were Lego. Satisfied with his functional decapitation, Bradley turned to his

last victim; throwing himself at her like a man with nothing to lose and wiling to sacrifice everything.

Because that was what set Bradley apart from the Nobles; they had an iron will and perseverance that humans could never match but they were also rigid, inflexible, never learn from their mistakes and above all—they were afraid to die. Bradley had none of those problems.

He shoved his foe back and grabbed something from the rubble of the abandoned building. A nice rusty sledge hammer, because while swords were lovely variety is the spice of life.

The vampire woman swung her blade, her motions elegant and her cloak swirling dramatically. Bradley swung and smashed her elbow in mid strike. She tried to swing at him with he claw but he stepped forward and brought down his hammer on her shoulder; breaking her and ripping into her at the same time.

Still not willing to give up, the vampire hissed in defiance and stabbed Bradley with her sword. Her killer showed no pain or remorse as he smashed the sledgehammer down on her head, bursting it like a ripe melon and splattering himself in blood, skull and brain. Bradley was mildly pleased with the result; but to his everlasting shame he saw that Sirius had somehow crawled away.

Sirius was dragging himself away; he hadn't even the strength to apparate. His collapsed lung made it feel like he was buried alive and suffocating. His vision was blackening and he'd lose consciousness soon.

CRUNCH!

Sirius tried to scream as a sledge hammer came down on his right leg, and then his left leg. In his mind a single question rolled around and around, "Why won't he just kill me?"

Bradley smiled as he swung the sledge hammer down again and again on Sirus, turning him into a big bag of internal bleeding and destroyed bones. It pleased him but unlike his brother Wrath it did not make his blood rush; on the contrary, Pride felt as cool as a cucumber when he was torturing and murdering people. He still enjoyed it in his own detached way.

At last, when Sirius Black's leg bones were sticking through the skin and feet were crushed into a pulp did Bradley stop.

In a fit of caprice, he grabbed his enemy by his long, Stringy hair and hefted him up.

Sirius, who was on the verge of going out from shock was greeted by a horrifying sight. Bradley; but not the man he pretended to be. Before Sirius was the monster that he really was. The ourouborous eye was full and flashing, his normal green eye had turned an inhuman shade of amethyst and had a cat slit like pupil. Most telling of all was the

mouth full of sharp, cutting teeth that gnashed while spit and foam collected at the corners of his mouth.

Then it was gone, the monster was gone as Bradley smiled and licked his mustache absentmindedly; only the evil alchemic eye served to remind of his utter inhumanity.

Bradley looked at Sirius, and looked and looked. He said nothing, but watching and observing, like an animated wax dummy. Were there any thoughts that went on in his head? Was he disappointed in how Sirius, despite being beaten into a bloody pulp was showing no fear whatsoever; even now while the pain was enough to make him want to end it all.

He never looked away from Bradley's stare; he kept his gaze fixed right on the Ultimate Eye.

Bradley looked and looked; face impassive and never blinking. Then he smiled a little wider; he'd found what he was looking for.

There on the front of Sirius's robe was a hair strand; something that in his arrogance, Pride had overlooked.

Reaching delicately forward, Bradley picked up the hair and his Ultimate Eye began to scan it. Data was read and processed at superhuman levels; the eye which allowed Pride to see everything tore from the hair all that was learnable and fed it into the brain of its master.

Soon the eye began to assemble the genetic strand of the hair and build an image of what the owner looked like.

Fair skin like Snow White, lanky build, small breasts, brilliant green eyes . . . and that curl. Oh that curl, Bradley smiled deeply; he still remembered that one curl after all these years. Little Ripley . . . nice little Ripley . . . sweet little Ripley. Little Ripley that got away . . . the only one that got away.

Bradley smiled and Sirius's eyes widened with true fear; suddenly the pain he felt was meaningless. Adrenaline flooded Sirius's system and he gasped as his inner magic popped out his collapsed lung. Like a newborn baby, a wave of screams came from Sirius to Bradley's amusement.

The homunculus could see the magic working to repair the damaged flesh; it amused him.

Bradley leaned in and whispered, "Thank you, I know what she looks like."

And he dropped Sirius, who let out a fresh wave of screams as he landed in a pile of broken limbs. His magic could heal him but the process wouldn't be instant nor would it be perfect. Without a trained healer, his body could heal in ways that would cripple or kill him. The magic he was feeling now was driven from love, from the overpowering need to protect someone he loved. Rip Van Winkle was in danger and Bradley was on her trail.

He had to stop him. Before it was too late.

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Now I hope you enjoyed that :) Read, review and tell me what you thought ;)

ta

Master of the Boot


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